


Queen Of Light And Shadow

by ro_blaze



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Breathplay, Breeding, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Ganondorf (Legend of Zelda) Needs Therapy, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, Marriage of Convenience, Paranoia, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Size Difference, Size Kink, Trauma, a shitton amount of plot actually, cant have tp gan without all the trauma baby, fucking cry bitches, general feels man, i think thats all???, now the kinky part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ro_blaze/pseuds/ro_blaze
Summary: A sickly darkness looms over the Blessed Kingdom. Forced into a corner with no escape and desperate for salvation, the Princess Regent chooses the lesser evil and accepts the offer the wretched Demon King gives her. What she gets in return is far more than what she bargained for.[canon divergence]
Relationships: Ganondorf/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Queen Of Light And Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> to those who know me... you know what this is about, i don't need to tell you
> 
> to those who don't? there is this specific, glorious scene in volume 7 of the twilight princess manga (I OWN THAT NOW!!!) where ganondorf and zelda have tea and he says a lot of dumb pretentious shit like the loveable shithead he is, but then compliments her as POSSIBLE ALLY and offers her a place by his side and DEAR GOD I SPENT HALF AN HOUR S C R E A M I N G ABOUT IT
> 
> this monstrosity? is based on that moment. what if zelda had said yes?
> 
> huge thanks to [DarkAcey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAcey/pseuds/DarkAcey), [shadow_djinni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_djinni) and [SaltySaph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySaph) for being amazing friends and being there during the grueling writing process and THANK YOU HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK to [SaltySaph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySaph) and [KaelsMiscellany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany) for being THE BEST FUCKING BETAS a dweeb like me can dream of
> 
> now... enjoy the sin! and the feels!

Three weeks after she gives him her word, the Twilight disappears. 

People fill in the streets. Staff returns to the castle. Messengers are sent through the provinces. Announcements are made. 

Hyrule has a new King on Her throne.

There is no wedding—no, Ganondorf Dragmire would never lower himself for a traditional wedding. There’s a vow hissed into her ear in front of the throne, the half-ruined mural of the Three and a small statuette of the Lady being their only witnesses. He wraps a length of golden ribbon around her hand and holds it inside of his over the fire, letting the heat of the Eternal Flame seal their spirits into one. The Triforce sings, its voice high and crystal clear. 

He pushes her into the marble floor and mounts her like a stallion mounts his mare; as he has done every day since Zelda forfeited her Kingdom to him, their hands still tied together in gold. He is determined for an heir; he’s made sure she knows it. His desire is mighty, centuries of pent up anger contained in his mad drive into her body, but she is strong and resilient. The bruises he puts on her body heal swiftly, and he makes sure he does her no permanent harm.

There  _ is  _ a coronation, though—a farce set out to humiliate her, perhaps. Zelda doesn’t know. Ganondorf Dragmire kneels to no one, he’d assured her, but for her he does. He refuses the High Priest and instead motions for her to come closer, for her to set his crown upon his head. Her fingers shake as she gently brushes a lock of hair behind his ear and carefully sets the heavy crown upon his brow. The central piece, a topaz cabochon, stares back at her—until it doesn’t. As he stands up, he wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up for a kiss. She can hear people speaking behind their backs, about their own Princess allowing such displays of affection during an official ceremony, but she pays them little attention. Sharp fangs caress the corner of her mouth, drawing blood, and the High Priest gives her a hesitant look before gesturing for her to kneel. 

“My Queen does not kneel,” Ganondorf says, glaring at the elderly man.

Zelda has to hold back her sharp laugh. She kneels—she kneels plenty, these days, when strong hands grab her hair and guide her to his member. He likes using her mouth, painting her face with his seed, making her choke until she begs for him to release her. She knelt for him just before the ceremony began, willingly lowered herself on the floor for him, and pleasured him until he’d spilled into her mouth. She hates the way this memory makes her insides grow warm and tingly, the way the taste of his seed still lingering at the back of her mouth causes her heart to beat faster.

If Ganondorf notices the change in her posture, or in her scent, he does not mention it. He brushes her hair away from her face, strong fingers tracing the curve of her jaw and brushing her lips. The gesture seems affectionate—perhaps it is, but all she can see is the possessive gleam in his golden eyes. His thumb lingers against her bottom lip for a second, it would set her cheeks aflame had she not been trying her best to keep her mask up. She barely feels her circlet when he lowers it atop her head, the sapphire centerpiece cold against her skin.

When she turns to address the gathered guests and offers them a rare smile, Zelda does it as Queen in her own right. For all she finds herself hating and blaming Ganondorf… He has given her something; a precious gift. He has made her a Queen. 

And she is thankful.

There is a feast, of course. There are people asking questions, Zelda does her best to answer. She keeps weaving the wicked web of lies she’s spun for him and hopes against hope it will hold up. In her people’s eyes, Ganondorf is the hero who rid them of the stifling Twilight, who saved their poor Princess from the clutches of the evil Usurper King and swept her off her feet. The affectionate way he behaves around her—the gentle touches, the occasional whisper against her ear that sends warmth trickling down to her core, the breath-stopping kisses he gives her whenever she says something that pleases him—helps her sell those lies. No one will argue against a couple as madly as love as their young Queen and her foreign King are.

Zelda smiles and swallows the acidic bile that rises up her throat. If only they knew. If only they knew just how  _ mad  _ that love is, how  _ heroic  _ their King is, how  _ innocent  _ their Queen is. She takes a sip of her water (water, of course, because Ganondorf doesn’t allow her the sweet sin that wine is) and watches as the feast continues on. People, the same people who would have judged her for handing her Kingdom away on a silver platter, cheer for the new royal couple, making toasts in their names, and singing love songs that grow bawdier and bawdier as the night goes on and more alcohol is poured. Next to her, her King grins, basking in the attention his new subjects are giving him, goading her with his victory. 

She takes another sip. 

* * *

They are barely through the door and her dress is already shreds on the floor, expensive silk torn and trampled under her King’s boots. 

“It is sacrilege to keep your beauty hidden from my eyes, my Queen.” Ganondorf palms her breast in one hand and brushes her hair from her shoulder with the other. The gentleness of his touch makes her press her thighs together. “Only if I could have you like this all the time, all bare for me...”

“I’m afraid that will be unwise. You don’t enjoy it whenever other people look at me.” 

“That much is true. I don’t like sharing.”

Zelda gasps when his fingers caress her nipple. She never manages to keep her mask up when they are in private. All the years she’s spent learning court etiquette seem to fail around him. He can play her like a fiddle, twist her body in ways she never thought she could be twisted. His hand moves from her shoulder to her throat, thumb pressing against the mad pulse of her heart. 

“Ganondorf...”

“Yes?” His lips pull into a dark smile, baring sharp fangs made for turning poor maids like her lecherous and wanton. “Are you meaning to run away from me, pet?”

“No.” His hand wraps around her throat. The weight is familiar, almost welcomed. She licks her lips. “A Princess always keeps her word. I’ve given myself to you, do you not remember?”

“I do. Vividly.” His grip is still loose. Ganondorf takes one step, then another, pushing her towards the four-poster bed that had once belonged to her parents and is now theirs. “Your cries were so sweet when you begged me to touch you. To breed that lovely cunt of yours full of my seed.” He gives her breast a firm squeeze, then lowers his hand and cups her rear, lifting her and gently depositing her on top of the covers. “Has it caught yet?”

“It’s been less than a month, my King. We wouldn’t know yet.” She allows a smile to curl her mouth. “I would have never expected such interest in fatherhood from you, but you keep surprising me.”

“I wish for a child of my blood to inherit my crown, my sweet Queen. A Gerudo sitting on the Red Lion Throne. My heir.” His gaze roves over her form. His fangs gleam as a hungry grin splits his face. “But the idea of seeing you heavy with my child is very alluring. You would make such a lovely sight… ”

The compliment is wicked and brazen, but her cheeks flush all the same. It would have been easier, Zelda thinks, if he’d truly been the monster stories claimed him to be. But Ganondorf is charming and intelligent, and his sense of humor cuts just the right way. His arms are warm and his kisses manage to awaken a fire within her she’d never known existed. He is so much different than what she thought her consort to be. And yet, since the day he’d entered her life, she’s had trouble imagining anyone else by her side. 

Ganondorf is thorough, as always, and takes his time. One hand he keeps around her throat. He is paranoid, she knows. Whatever has happened in the past terrifies him, even though his pride does not let him speak about it. Zelda keeps her tongue behind her teeth and complies without a single thought. She’s seen the extent of his anger and although she knows he will not hurt her, the idea of upsetting him feels… wrong, somehow. This marriage might have not been her first choice, but he is kind to her. Hurting him on purpose doesn’t feel like something she would ever want to do.

She’s not that kind of person.

His free hand runs over her body, caressing her breasts and teasing the tips until they pebble. He doesn’t need to speak a single word for her to part her legs—she spreads them for him willingly, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. It brings her great shame, to offer herself like this to a beast as him, but he knows how to make her feel good and by the Goddesses, does he _use_ that knowledge. Long, thick fingers caress her folds, bringing her clit out of its hood, teasing her quivering entrance but never pushing inside. Her legs tremble. Heat trickles up her spine. 

“Please,” Zelda whispers when it becomes too much. Her breaths are shaky. Her lips feel dry. “Please, Ganondorf.”

She never imagined she would beg, but here she is, gazing up at the King of Darkness with adoring eyes and praying for his touch. She never managed to understand quite where the boundary between mortal and divine lies in him, so she prays like she would pray to the Three, asking for the sweet release only he can give her. He certainly doesn’t mind when she worships him like a God. He’s a proud, proud man—he enjoys her attention even when he doesn’t believe her broken devotion.

Sometimes Zelda wishes she had the willpower to hate him.

“Speak plainly, my Queen.” His hand stills and she nearly breaks into tears. Desire simmers under her skin. “What may I do for you?”

“Your hands. Your mouth. Please, my King.” Zelda sucks in a breath between her teeth. He has a cruel tongue and he enjoys goading her with it. She wishes it didn’t arouse her. “I need you to touch me. I need to have your mouth between my legs. Please.”

“You need me to eat your cunt.” Ganondorf chuckles and tilts her chin up so they are face to face. His fingers smear something wet against her cheek. His eyes burn, their brilliant gold radiating a light all its own. “My, my. I have made you such a little whore, Zelda. Beg for me some more. Sing for me. And if you please me well enough… I will be good to you.”

He is a cruel man—charming, for sure, but  _ so  _ cruel. Zelda swallows her fears and squeezes her eyes shut as she lifts her hands and reaches for the headboard, her body taut like a bowstring. (He enjoys it when she submits to him without being asked. He likes it when she confirms his ownership. His possessiveness should scare her, terrify her even, but she finds it oddly charming. She’s not used to being wanted just for herself. She has no reason to refuse him what is rightfully his.) The wrought iron is cool against her skin, but the pinprick of cold is nothing compared to the heat of the man above her. Her voice is shaky but she moans for him all the same, lifting her hips and begging for his touch without uttering a word. 

Zelda likes to pretend she’s grown to know him through the two long, torturous months they’ve spent together locked inside the castle, but she is no fool. Ganondorf is a private man—she’s the only living person who knows the person behind the beastly mask and even her knowledge amounts to just a sliver of him. He likes power, he  _ is  _ Power, and he especially likes having power over _ her. _ His fingers move up and down the length of her slit, letting the first knuckle of his forefinger slide inside before pulling away almost immediately and smearing the gathered wetness over her already damp folds. His mouth presses to her shoulder, tongue licking a strip of wet flesh over her left collarbone. His hand squeezes around her throat and she cries, clamping her legs tightly around his arm as pleasure shoots through her system. His thumb presses against her clit— rough, persistent, demanding. And she snaps.

There is something so… so oddly  _ beautiful  _ in finding one's peak in someone else’s arms. Zelda learned that simple truth the very first night her King had claimed her, on the cold marble in front of her throne. (Her knees bore bruises for a week after—she did not expect him to be such a passionate lover, but he never fails to prove her expectations wrong.) And while she can not call herself experienced under any circumstances, she is no pure maiden either. She knows a thing or two about pleasuring herself and others. And yet... 

None of the handful of secret partners she’s had in her days as the holy Princess of Hyrule has managed to give her that blessed high the Demon King achieves with a lazy flick of his wrist. Her body shivers as her orgasm tears through her, small mewls and gasp for air pouring from her mouth no matter how much she tries to hold them back. When she comes back to it, it’s to the glorious sight of her King bare from the waist up, licking her juices from his fingers as his magnificent scarlet mane falls freely down his back. 

“And here you are. You sing so lovely for me, my pet.” Ganondorf bends over her and presses his mouth to hers. His lips taste like her. “And you’ve done so well. A lovely song.” He licks his lips, more beast than human. Sharp fangs gleam in the dark. “Stay still now. I will make you feel good.”

Zelda nods—what else can she do?—and lies back, chestnut hair feathered over the pillows. Ganondorf uses a scrap of fabric from her ruined dress to tie her hands to the headboard. He secures it three times over and makes sure she cannot escape the knot before finally sitting up. Had she not been so aroused, so absolutely driven insane by the desire to have him, she would have laughed. Now, she relaxes and spreads her legs for him once more, excitement bubbling within her core. 

His mouth is heaven and hell on her clit. This time he doesn’t bother to laze around and tease—he is sharp and firm, cutting straight to the point, chasing her orgasm with a tenacity she cannot help but admire. His tongue runs over her from top to bottom and then back up, gathering the release from her previous peak and drinking it as if she’s a spring in the desert. A satisfied groan leaves his throat and he pushes his tongue into her opening, looking for more. Her legs tremble and shake, he uses one of his hands to grip her hip and hold her in place. 

Once he has satisfied himself with lapping up whatever sweetness still lingers on her folds, Ganondorf moves back enough to bring his free hand to her. His fingers, first two—and then, a third—slide inside her, thick and long and firm, pushing against her inner walls and stretching them. It feels good, blessedly good. His mouth remains on her clit, his tongue running over the small bundle of nerves as her soft cries ring in the air. His hand never stops, matching the torturous pace of his tongue. 

She finds her peak in no time and falls apart for him as his name leaves her lips, her honey pouring into his mouth. He doesn’t pull away immediately, using his tongue and hand to extend it for her, let her ride it out to the very last second. She mewls and whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut, unable to handle the intensity.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ganondorf purrs against her opening, flicking her clit with his tongue. Her body shakes with the vibrations of his deep voice. “You are so wet for me. You’ve been wet since I put that crown on your pretty little head. You were thinking about me even then. Weren’t you, little one?”

Zelda closes her mouth and does her best to glare down at him. She dislikes lying greatly and he’s been making her do that plenty, so she doesn’t deign to respond. Her silence is the only answer he needs, for Ganondorf laughs as he sits up and gives her a dark smile. His beard is soaked with her wetness.

“Mhmm… I’ve a new rule for you, my Queen. From now on, there shall be no undergarments for you.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. I don’t want to see your cunt ever covered by anything.” He runs his finger down the length of her opening and grins when it immediately grows wet. “You don’t want to disappoint me, my pretty, do you?”

Zelda makes an attempt to sit up but remembers herself at the last moment and stops just before she can embarrass herself. Again. Instead, she settles to just glaring at him.

“Ganondorf, what you suggest is madness! I am a Queen, I  _ cannot  _ walk bare under my skirts. It is indecent!”

“I don’t give a fuck about is decent and is not. You are mine—all of you, your cunt included.” Ganondorf presses the heel of his palm into her opening and lets her grind against it. A cry rises from her throat. “That’s right, pretty girl. You belong to me, remember? You told me so yourself. You  _ gave  _ yourself to me. Your little mouth and your tight cunt are all mine. And so is the womb I plan to fill with my seed.”

Not for the first time, Zelda regrets using those exact words when she finally bent to his offer. He loves pointing out that she submitted herself, that she entered his bed  _ willingly  _ and while that is true—he had not forced her, she doubts he is capable of forcing himself on her even if his plans require him to—he is still completely  _ insufferable _ . He is cruel at times, she’s learned, but he’s not a mindless monster hell-bent on destroying for the sake of destruction. (Usually, when he destroys something, it’s born of his deep-rooted anger issues and the trauma from his previous lifetime. She tries to not ask after that). 

And he… He cares for her—some kind of twisted, possessive form of care. But he does care and it is always genuine. (He rarely lies, unless the situation requires it. She admires that in a worthy adversary and in her husband). He always makes sure she’s not hurt and he, in particular, has not hurt her; he spends time with her outside of their bedroom activities, much more so than a conventional spouse would; he lets her snuggle into his warmth whenever they sleep and holds her tight. He makes her feel safe. He lets her be affectionate and  _ oh _ , isn’t that such a novelty in her life?

“And what if someone sees me in such a state?” she asks, lifting her hips so she can rub against his hand like the whore he’d turned her into. “People will talk about me.”

“Make no mistake, my Queen—no one will.” Ganondorf wraps his free hand around her throat once more and applies enough pressure to make her see stars. Her breathing grows ragged. She loves it. A soft whimper slips past her partly opened lips. “You belong to me, and  _ only  _ me, and if they want to keep their heads, our subjects must learn it. I’m the only one who has any right to look up your skirts,  _ wife _ . Anyone who dares to touch you will end at the other end of my sword. I will let no harm come your way.”

His sword—the Sword of the Six Sages, he titles it—is always on him; she doubts he can sleep without it. She can see it right now, leaning against the frame of their bed, its adamantine blade releasing a soft pale glow all of its own. Ganondorf doesn’t seem to like that she’s not focusing all of her attention on him, though, possessive as he is, and tightens his firm grip around her throat once more. Zelda tilts her head back and moans softly, as much as his fingers allow her. When she meets his eyes, her vision is blurry, stars dancing behind her lids.

“Here… that’s better, isn’t it?” He presses his thumb against her windpipe. One, two, three seconds. When he releases her and removes his hand, she’s panting heavily, struggling to fill her lungs. His soft chuckle is the sweetest music to her ears. “So lovely, my little Queen. You know your place, don’t you? So smart and obedient. I want you to only look at me.”

His kiss is a whisper against her lips. Zelda whimpers but obeys his command, pressing her thighs together as the fire rises anew. She dares not look away. The sight of him undressing in front of her makes her core burn. Every inch of skin he reveals sends a thrill through her system and  _ Goddesses _ , she can swear she’s dripping once more. At long last Ganondorf removes the last article of clothing and stretches above her, long red mane tickling her skin where it touches her. His member hangs between his legs, long and stiff, clear liquid pearling at the tip. 

From his discarded belt he retrieves a small knife and uses it to cut the fabric binding her wrist. Zelda does not have much time to enjoy her newfound freedom—the flat of the dagger presses against her lips before she can move a single finger, cold against her maddeningly hot flesh. Ganondorf grins, sharp fangs gleaming in the dim light, and runs the blade against her cheek, he’s fond of doing the same with his fingers.

“Turn around, my Queen,” he whispers, voice thicker than honey and just as sweet. The knife follows the curve of her jaw up to base her ear, then dips to caress her neck, steel smooth and gentle like a lover. “Spread your legs for me once more. You want it. You want me. You  _ want  _ me to  _ love  _ you.”

It’s not phrased like a question. It’s  _ not  _ a question. Zelda grits her teeth and tries to glare at him, tries to summon all the contempt and hatred within her madly beating heart, but finds nothing. The cold steel blade presses against her pulse. His eyes gleam in the dark, filled with an emotion she cannot quite describe, an emotion she’s afraid to name. The only light in the room is the one coming from the spirit-wound on his chest, pale gold and terrifying in its brilliance. 

Sitting up is difficult. Her lower body feels heavy, as if made out of lead. Her thighs are wet. Zelda smiles, gentle and soothing, and holds his gaze as she lifts herself up. She makes sure he can see every movement she makes (she does not want to frighten him once more, Goddesses, never,) and hesitantly lifts one hand towards him. 

Her throat constricts as she runs her fingers down the length of the glowing scar. She hears him hiss, hears the way his jaw snaps shut. His shoulders are tense, his body is frozen. Her forefinger traces the corners of the ugly wound, from top to bottom, and she caresses it with a tenderness she never thought herself capable of. It’s a horrible wound, jagged and torn at the edges. The sight of it makes her uneasy. But it’s a part of him, a part of the man she had chosen to love, and she will love it all the same. 

Zelda doesn’t realize he’s trembling until he grabs her wrist to stop her. Her eyes have never left his. 

“So do you,” she whispers. Her smile is gentle. A little bit broken, perhaps—a little bit lost. Like her. Like him. “And that is okay. We have time to learn, all the time in the world. Love me, Ganondorf. Please. And let me love you in return.”

Ganondorf laughs. Or at least Zelda  _ thinks  _ he does—there are no tears for her to be able to tell if he’s crying instead. His shoulders shake. The knife presses dangerously close to her jugular, close enough to kill her if he so decided, but he doesn’t. She knows he will not, so she closes her eyes and leans forward, resting her forehead against the firm muscle of his chest. She can feel the warmth of his spirit-wound against her lips.

She wishes she had the courage to kiss it, to promise him that all will be alright.

“Monsters like me don’t get to love or be loved, my good Queen,” he whispers between wheezing chuckles. The smile he gives her is heavy with misery and her heart weeps for him. “But I find your stubborn innocence to be adorable. You still cling to those virtues you’ve been gifted to—quite admirable, in this cruel world we live in. Tell me, have I not crushed your hopes enough yet?”

“No. You have not.” Zelda lifts her hand to gently caress his cheek and when he leans into her touch, her smile is bittersweet. She will never be able to heal the wounds of his mind, try as she might. One cannot help those who do not want to be helped. “Do you want to?”

“A broken toy is not what I desire you to be.”

“Then do not make me into one. Let me hope for something better — for Hyrule, for us, for…” Her voice wavers. “For the child we both desire.” 

“Zelda… ” 

“I want your love. Is it so difficult to give it?”

Ganondorf doesn’t respond. He stares at her for a long moment, eyes running over her face as if committing it to memory. So Zelda does the same — she drinks in the sight of him; the regal nose, the cheekbones, the shape of his jaw, the line of his brow, the fire in his eyes. He tips his head and covers her mouth with his and she sighs softly, welcoming his touch. Her arms twine around his neck, fingers hovering over his hair. There is no tongue, no teeth, no snarling or growling—only the gentle, almost chaste press of their lips. He releases her hand so he can run his fingers down her side and over her stomach, lingering there. 

His touch is so gentle it causes tears to fill her eyes. The child their union will bring is important to him, she knows. The future that child symbolizes, the hope for a new, brighter day. Her heart flutters in her chest, slamming into her ribs like a mad hummingbird. She wants to have a future with him, to give him at least a sliver of the hope still harbored in her heart. Her hands slide from his neck to his chest, trembling fingers hovering over the crack in his flesh, and he sighs against her mouth.

“Love me,” she whispers between kisses, her voice wobbly with unshed tears. “Make love to me. My King, my God. Make love to me.”

The only answer she receives is a soft growl, fangs teasing the corner of her mouth before releasing her lips. Zelda does not wait for him to respond; instead, she gives him a soft smile and carefully rolls onto her stomach. Her hands shake as she assembles her nest. Words of pure devotion rise from within her—there are so many things she wishes he could know. It takes her a minute to arrange herself, to pile up enough pillows underneath her hips for the height he prefers. With her rear lifted in the air and a cushion to rest her head upon, she is ready for him

Ganondorf laughs again, a breezy and shaky sound, and runs his hand down the length of her spine. His warm touch chases away the chills of the night. He brushes her hair away from her neck and presses a kiss to her nape, then drags his fangs over the smooth skin of her shoulder, leaving shallow lines to mark his territory. 

(Zelda decides she will wear a gown that bares her shoulders the following day, if only because she knows it will please him. It  _ pleases  _ her to  _ please  _ him, she’s found. She is curious about the kind of reaction it will bring from their haphazardly gathered council.)

“Pray tell me, my Queen, why are you so eager?” he asks, the smile evident in his voice. “Feeling sorry for this old beast?”

“Never.” She tilts her head so her cheek rests on the pillow and gives him an impish smile. Courage flows through her, spurring her to continue talking. She rarely reveals her true desires to him—it shames her to have him know how wicked she’s become. A month of lovemaking is a long time to learn as she has learned, though, and she has desired him for even longer. His ego might reach to the sky and back, but surely stroking it a bit further will not hurt? “I am but a simple woman, my King. I want you. I want your touch…”

“You want,” he parrots. A grin teases the corner of his mouth. “But do you deserve?”

“My King, have I not been good to you?” Zelda closes her eyes and relaxes against her cushion; she cannot handle looking at his face as she speaks. “This is all I ask of you. Love me as you have loved me before. I need to feel you inside of me, above me. You are the only thing on my mind. Your strong arms as they hold me, your lips as they kiss me. Memories of our lovemaking torture me every day. All I need is to close my eyes and I can imagine us like this, remember how you feel when you slide into me. I love the way you feel inside of me, the way you barely fit. I’ve never imagined I would ever want this, can you believe?” She laughs, the sound light and airy. The more she speaks the easier it becomes. “I beg for you, I breathe for you. I cannot look at you without thinking about how good you make me feel. You’ve made me so wretched and wicked, my good King. What have you done to me?” 

When she dares to look at him, Ganondorf has not moved. His eyes glow like two embers in the dark. Zelda takes a heavy breath and grips her pillow tightly. Her fingers tremble. She wants to look away, to hide under the sheets, but as much as her heart craves that sweet escape she cannot allow it. She holds his gaze as she speaks.

“I want you to give me a child, Ganondorf. I want to feel you pour your seed inside of me, feel you mark me as your own. I want you to watch as I grow heavy with  _ our  _ child, I want you to see there is still hope for you. You are not the broken man you claim to be. Let me love you. We can have a family, a future.  _ Together _ . Please. Do not… do not deny me. Please.”

Her hands shake as she takes one of his much larger ones and brings it back to her stomach. His claws are cold, a shock against his burning skin. Her nails dig into the back of his palm.

“Give me this child. I beg you.  _ Please _ .”

His expression morphs from dark and thoughtful to… victorious, perhaps. Lips stretch into a predatory grin. Zelda bites her lip and whimpers but does not protest when he grabs her hair and pulls back, baring her neck. Her shoulders relax.  _ Yes. Have me, Demon King. _ His mouth is hot when he presses it against her skin, nearly burning. His tongue leaves a trail of molten lava down the side of her throat. His fangs press to her ear and she squirms, but keeps her hands around her pillow and her legs spread wide for him. Goddesses, she can feel the length of him against her rear, smearing warm liquid over her cheeks. He thrusts, blindly, rocking against her body, and she gasps his name.

“You always know the right thing to say, my beautiful little pet.” The pull against her scalp grows stronger and Zelda squeezes her eyes shut. His breath is hot against her ear. “Is your heart so soft that you will welcome even a wretched creature like me inside of it? Or are you so starved for love you’re content to delude yourself that those  _ feelings _ ”—he spits it out as if it’s a curse—“you harbor for me are more than just base animal instincts?”

“You sell yourself short.” His fangs score against her neck and she cries softly. The heat of him so close to her core makes her tremble with anticipation. “We are human, Ganondorf, no matter how many times you try to deny it. And the human heart is fickle and weak.” Zelda smiles and chuckles softly, warmth spreading over her face. “I don’t why in the world I chose you, perhaps I never will. But I’ve gifted you my heart, whether you like it or not. You made the willing choice to enter my life and you must accept the consequences of it.”

He snorts.

“Allow yourself to remember what love is like. For me. For the child I will carry. Our child, Ganondorf.  _ Our  _ child.”

There is no response. She doesn’t know why she even expected one. Ganondorf presses his lips to her temple and whispers something in his mother tongue that is too quiet for her to understand, then removes his weight from above her. Before she can move, one of his hands settles between her shoulder blades and he pushes down, keeping her upper body pressed against the bedsheets. His free hand runs down the length of her and he stops for a moment to roughly knead her rear, producing yet another whimper from her mouth, before settling on her hip. The tip of his member nestles against her opening and soaks into her wetness. Then, he pushes.

One smooth thrust is all it takes and he is already halfway there. Zelda throws her head back and keens, nails digging into the soft pillow underneath her, her lower half shaking as she struggles to stand upright. There is simply too much of him and too little of her. Her walls stretch, uselessly trying to accommodate for his size, and Ganondorf laughs before thrusting once more. 

“Always so tight for me,” he croons and rocks his hips against her. The hand on her hip gives her another firm squeeze and she mewls. “By the Goddesses, Zelda… I’m going to spend years fucking you and you’re always going to be so goddamn tight. Your cunt is squeezing me so good. You love it, don’t you? You love having this monster fuck you. You love feeling this cock inside of you. Don’t you?”

When she doesn’t answer, Ganondorf growls. Zelda barely has the time to take a single breath before his hand comes down on her rear, smacking against her behind.

“ _ Don’t _ you?” he snarls in her ear.

“I do, I do!” Zelda cries, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her response earns her another hard smack and she moans, her thighs shaking under the weight of him above her. “I love it! I love all of it!”

His pace quickens, his hand returning its place on her hip. Ganondorf drags his mouth over her shoulder and bites roughly, enough to draw blood. It’s a sweet, delicious pain, one that trickles down her spine and all the way to her core. His hot tongue laps at the blood and she moans his name softly. Her attempt to bury her face into her pillow is a failure for he pulls her by her hair and captures her mouth into a kiss. 

She can taste her own blood on his lips. 

“You will not deprive me of your song, pet,” he whispers, dragging his tongue over her cheek. “Let me hear you cry my name. Sing some more for me.”

And Zelda sings—she sings the wicked song he seems to love so much—sighs and gasps and trembling whispers of his name. Each word falls off her lips like fervent prayer to a God only she knows of. She prays and she begs, for release, for mercy, for salvation. For love. Her voice climbs higher and higher the more of him is inside of her. Her knuckles turn white from the force of her grip. Her thighs shake so hard she doubts she will manage to hold herself upright for long. When he finally bottoms out and presses his thighs to her behind she’s crying, tears of pleasure streaming down her face and soaking into her pillow. 

“Mhmm, that’s my lovely girl… Your cunt is squeezing me so fucking good, pet.” Ganondorf runs his hand up and down her spine and grins when she shivers. One of his hands slides underneath her and his expression transforms into one of pure, unadulterated pride when he feels the way his member is tenting against her stomach. Zelda cannot see it, but she can feel the way his palm rubs against the obscene bulge, and squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m going to morph your body for my use only, my pretty. No one else will ever be able to make you feel the way I do, I swear it by the graves of my mothers.  _ No one _ . I will paint you with my seed, inside and out. Your womb, your pretty cunt—it all belongs to me. I’m the only one you will ever want, the only one you will ever need.”

Her response is a shaky, broken laugh. She’s never wanted—never  _ needed _ —someone as much as she needs him. Her hunger for his touch is older than her, than even him. It is something wild and ancient, primordial. Zelda doesn’t understand it truly—she doubts she ever will, for love is not something to be understood—but she accepts it with open arms and an open heart, embraces it just like she did with him.

Ganondorf Dragmire may claim he has no need for love, but he is still a human, his divinity notwithstanding. And she will love him.

“But you  _ already  _ are,” Zelda whispers, leaning back and pressing her hips snugly against his, relishing the glorious feeling of being filled to the very brim. It feels so  _ right _ , to have him inside of her like this. To be  _ his _ . “There’s no one else for me, Ganondorf. Only you.”

She wishes to see his reaction, so she tilts her head as much as she can and peers over her shoulder. The King of Light and Shadow stares at her quietly, his eyes bright, his mouth drawn in a line. He chuckles softly and closes his eyes, the corners of his lips quirking up. His fingers caress her cheek.

“You will be the death of me, my sweet Queen,” he whispers with a rueful smile.

“Once upon a time… perhaps. But not anymore.” Zelda closes her eyes and leans into his hand, unable to contain the joy that rises within her when he makes no attempt to remove himself from her. It will take time, she knows, but perhaps one day he will feel free to accept her care. “Please, Ganondorf. Keep going, don’t stop.  _ Make love to me _ .”

She watches his face as the last barrier holding him back disappears. His smile grows more genuine, wider, darker, sharp fangs peaking over his lips. The golden gleam in his eyes brightens. Ganondorf claims himself a monster for his past and his actions, for the atrocities he says he’s committed, she  _ knows _ , but it's the beastly touch to his looks that excites her more than anything. His hand travels down her body and lingers at her stomach, where his member is still tenting against her skin. He sits back, much to her confusion, then gently pulls her towards him until she is seated intimately on his lap, her back flush to his bare chest. He ties her hands once again, and moves them so they are hanging over his neck, her body stretched over the length of him. 

When she looks down, Zelda can see just how her opening stretches to fit all of his monstrous length. The sight of it is enough to make her squirm, but the firm hand on her hip holds her still. She squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her head back to rest again one powerful shoulder.

“You are so beautiful, my Queen,” Ganondorf whispers into her ear, pressing soft kisses against her jaw. “And I’m going to make you even more beautiful… I’m going to breed you until your stomach swells with my seed. I’m going to do just as you say—I will watch you grow heavy with my child. I will fuck you every day—every morning, every night—until my seed is the only thing you can taste, until my name is the only thing your lips remember.” His fangs press against her pulse. He can kill her within a single breath, instead his warm mouth against her skin is a sweet torture. “You belong to me, Zelda.”

“Y-yes.” Her body strains against him,  _ around  _ him. Her breath is escaping her. When his hand wraps around her throat once more, holding her firmly pressed to him, she cries. “Yes, my love. I belong to you. Only you.”

His response is a soft purr against the crook of her neck, his tongue laving at the mark his fangs have left on her skin. The hand on her stomach moves down to hold her hip while the other remains around her throat, applying just enough pressure for it to feel good. Zelda lets out a shaky moan when at long last he resumes his pace. Slow and torturous, deep and thorough, pulling out almost all the way out before smoothly sliding back in. The sound of skin slapping against skin rings every time he fills her.

“Look at you.” Ganondorf drags his tongue over her ear and tilts her head so she can watch him slide in and out, watch her walls stretch. The sight shouldn’t be so arousing but it  _ is _ . She only grows wetter. His laughter is sharp in her ear, warm and satisfied. “You are squeezing me so fucking tight. You want me to cum in you, don’t you? To fill you with my seed?”

Zelda nods her head furiously, unable to force her mouth to form words. When his thumb grazes her clit she cries out, throwing her head back and convulsing around him. It takes him a moment to find a proper balance between rocking her quivering body against him and rubbing his fingers against her swollen clit but once he does, she is done for. Shockwaves travel through her body. She is on fire, melting, turning into nothing. Her voice rises higher. His mouth remains by her ear, whispering sweet nothings and filth within the same breath, feeding her lust-addled mind. She is drunk on the feel of him, the last vestiges of modesty and propriety slipping like sand between her fingers. 

Her orgasm is slow this time—gradual but earth-shaking, like a wave rising from the sea and leaving destruction in its wake. Zelda has nothing to hold onto and struggles to grasp his long hair between her fingers, desperate for purchase. Her voice is breathy and high-pitched, her walls spasming and fluttering. Ganondorf doesn’t stop. On the contrary, he almost seems to speed up, pushing her a little bit higher into the air with every thrust. His fingers never leave her clit, rubbing and pressing and pinching, extending her high as long as possible, holding her tightly as she rides it out.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he croons into her ear, teeth nipping the pointed end. “Mhm, so wet and warm. You are soaking.”

Words seem to evade her so Zelda settles for a low, strained mewl. Ganondorf laughs and gives her neck another gentle squeeze, letting his thumb press against her windpipe enough for stars to spark behind her eyelids. He curses loudly when she jerks against him.

“... and you get so much tighter when I do that,” he rasps. It’s the first sign this might be affecting him as much as it affects her. If she could, she would laugh. Alas, she must preserve the little air left in her lungs for breathing. “Zelda, Zelda… you never fail to astound me. How many secrets do you hide from me, lovely?”

Her tongue is heavy like lead in her mouth. 

“Less talk,” she manages, gasping for air. “More sex.”

His chest rumbles with his laughter, lovely and genuine. Goddesses, what is this man doing with her? She cannot love him more than she already does. Her heart isn’t strong enough. Zelda wishes she could see him, for the smile she hears in his voice is surely twice as lovely as the way he caresses her cheek. Her traitorous heart skips a beat or two. Or five.

“Demanding little Queen.” The hand around her throat loosens and Ganondorf cups her chin instead, gently tilting her head until he can meet her eyes. He’s smiling, his eyes glimmering. He looks… content. Happy, maybe? She hopes he  _ feels  _ happy. His smile is lovely. Looking away is so difficult. Thinking is difficult, with him still pressed so deep within her, her brain reduced to a barely-functional mush. “Ask nicely and I might consider it.”

Zelda rolls her eyes fondly. Her lips pull into a smile against her will. Try as she might, she cannot force herself to be cross with him. Not when he’s cradling her face so tenderly, not when he is looking at her as if she holds the night sky in her hands.

“Please, Ganondorf,” she whispers, her voice only somewhat stable. “Will you stop playing this farce and just keep making love to me?”

She is glad she can see his face—that she can see the way his eyes widen, the way he freezes like a deer caught in front of a carriage's lantern. A light dusting of red spreads over his cheekbones. Her heart does a flip. It is so utterly unfair. Monsters shouldn’t be beautiful but here  _ he  _ is, looking like a creature out of her teenage self’s most secret dreams. Her walls spasm and he curses softly. Her hands twitch, the desire to touch him, run her fingers through his hair, shower him with kisses overpowering. 

_ One day, _ she prays.  _ One day he will let me. _

“You ask a lot, from a monster.”

“I do.” Zelda grins up at him. She enjoys the warmth she sees lingering on his cheeks. She might not be able to touch him but she can still affect him. The knowledge only makes her grin wider. “And I know you will deliver. Please?”

Ganondorf curses once more and she only barely swallows her laugh. His hands move down until both of them settle on her hips. With her wrists still tied together and hooked over his head, he doesn’t need them to support her upper body. Claw-tipped fingers press against the smooth skin of her thighs.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he warns her. 

Zelda laughs, the sound slipping from her lips blissful and free. She rocks her hips against him gently and relishes the way he rubs against all those sensitive spots. She is melting. It is simply too good to have him.  _ Divine _ .

“Is that supposed to be a threat? It doesn’t feel like one.” She bats her lashes at him and smiles, then closes her eyes and relaxes. “You have promised me your seed  _ and  _ a child. Do not make me beg even more, I’ve no dignity left to spare. Just… just make love to me. That is all I ask of you.”

Ganondorf pulls on her chin and takes her mouth. A startled sound—half moan, half squeak—rises from her throat and he swallows it, groaning as his strong hands push her down the length of his member once more. Sharp fangs press against her lips, threatening to break the thin skin. Claws dig into her thighs and he uses his grip to lift her then smoothly lower her on his length. She moans against his mouth and pulls away to catch her breath, pressing her face into his shoulder. 

This time, his pace is faster—not  _ fast _ , she thinks, but  _ faster _ . He uses her like a toy for his pleasure, pushing her body up and down his member, and it’s  _ glorious _ . Zelda closes her eyes and relaxes fully, singing her song as he lays waste upon her body, her fingers twisting and desperately pulling on whatever little pieces of his hair she can reach. Fangs tease her shoulder and neck, leaving shallow red marks; his tongue laves over her skin. Every so often he whispers a little something to her; a tease, an insult, a promise. Every word strokes the fire within her higher and higher.

She doubts he understands the kind of power he has over her. 

It’s not too long before his grunts and growls join her sighs and soft whispers of his name. Their voices mix in the most wondrous of harmonies she’s had the pleasure to hear. The Pieces they share lend their own hum to the symphony. Her hand burns and she can see the divine light radiating from his own, feel the way it scorches her skin. Ganondorf tenses underneath her, every tendon in his body on the edge. His member throbs within her. The light burns brighter, harsher, blinding.

“I love you,” she gasps out, her fingers clenching, toes curling.

Stars explode behind her eyelids just as his seed begins to trickle in. Zelda doesn’t know who reached their peak first and pushed the other along. She doesn’t care. Her mouth falls open and she cries, her voice shaky and ragged. It might’ve been his name. She’s not completely sure. Ganondorf snarls and buries his face into her neck as he keeps pushing up. His claws dig into her thighs, drawing blood and he holds their bodies pressed together with a kind of desperation that tears her heart apart and makes it beat faster at the same time. 

_ Catch _ , she prays to those cruel Goddesses above.  _ Have we not hurt enough? Catch. Please. _

Ganondorf gathers her against his chest and despite his earlier promise to spend the whole night coupling, Zelda doesn’t mind it. She’s all too happy to curl up against him and his warmth. He doesn’t need the knife to cut the rags binding her wrists—he brings them to his mouth like some wild beast and tears it off with his fangs in a gesture that shouldn’t be as arousing as it is. He makes sure she is uninjured and gently adjusts the way she lays against him to make sure his member does not slide out of her. Once satisfied, he tucks her under his chin and hums gently.

Zelda looks down and heat rises to her cheeks as she gently runs her hand over the curve of her belly. She should be used to it by now, but the sight still manages to surprise her. Ganondorf warned her of it long ago, but she oddly finds herself loving the way her body stretches and changes in order to fit all of his seed inside of her. And there is plenty of it, too—she feels the heat of it from within, scorching the walls of her womb, marking her for his use only. The mark on her hand gives another soft glow before slowly dying down. Soon, the only light in the bedroom comes from the moon outside and the spirit-wound on her husband’s chest. 

“It will catch,” Zelda whispers, one hand gently cradling the swell. “I know it. It will.”

“Do not make promises you cannot keep,  _ viarah _ .”

A small yawn escapes her lips. 

“ _ Hope _ ?” she asks, lids growing heavy. Four orgasms, she remembers, and the thought makes her laugh. She’s only half lucid when she peers up at the monster of a man who has somehow managed to steal her heart. “Is that how you name me, Gerudo King?”

“Perhaps.” After a moment of hesitance, his large hand comes to join hers over her stomach. He takes care to not let his claws hurt her. He is gentle, tender. “You carry all of my hope, Zelda.”

Zelda opens her mouth to speak but the only thing that comes out is another soft yawn. Heat rushes to her cheeks, her ears burn. Ganondorf chuckles and presses his lips to her brow. 

“Let’s get you to sleep, my Queen. You have done wonderfully tonight.”

He doesn’t give her the chance to respond or protest, holding her to his chest as he lowers them upon the mattress, her body curled against his side. Zelda hums softly and closes her eyes. Despite the light pouring from his wound his heart is still beating, strong and steady. She finds its rhythm under her cheek soothing. It’s not long before it manages to lull her into sleep. 

Ganondorf’s hand remains on her stomach, gently stroking the rounded curve.

For the first time in centuries, the Demon King finds himself whispering a prayer of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> gerudo vocab:  
> viarah - hope, faith
> 
> come visit my twitter, [monnydoesart](https://twitter.com/MonnyRancheva), where you can see some fancy zelda art and maybe take a look at my commission. (i have some really pretty stuff and i'm in a really bad place financially so everyything helps!)
> 
> stay safe~


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